INTERVIEW

What was your path to becoming an organist? Did you want to learn the organ as a child? Or perhaps, was there a special concert experience that ultimately gave you the impetus to pursue a career in organ performance?

From quite a young age, I wanted to learn the organ. I was singing in the cathedral choir at the time, and I remember one day I was assigned to turn pages for the titular organist for the postlude - after that moment, I absolutely wanted to learn the organ. At that time, however, I was still far away from thinking about a professional career.

Would you describe your musical training as a normal, natural progression for an aspiring musician on their way to a professional career?

I would probably not describe any career as normal or self-evident, because it is so uniquely different for every person, and especially for musicians - fortunately! After all, everyone must find and go his or her own way. I simply did what I was passionate about and what I always believed in. I wouldn't take much for granted in my curriculum vitae, as coming from a non-musician family, my path to the organ was probably anything but predetermined and normal. In addition, our world today is very global, and a “normal” career path is no longer sufficient for a professional career if it is not fostered from the beginning, in an educational system that is geared towards it. Today, it is becoming increasingly difficult to find a path to a professional career in music, but there are many reasons for this.

Today's educational paths are more like oversized highways. Don't you occasionally get lost in the many offers and opportunities?

You should know what gets you ahead and what doesn't. I have always had very high standards regarding my education, which meant that the number of courses on offer was actually severely limited. For example, it wasn't possible to study two different instruments at the same time at many of the universities I wanted to apply to.

Can you briefly describe a few special features of your organ teachers, who certainly have encouraged and shaped you, to a certain extent, in your respective stage of development?

Since I started studying the organ in Regensburg, Germany, I have come a long way, during which all of my teachers - without exception - have always guided and supported me. Despite their different emphases in repertoire - from which I have also benefited - and their very different teaching styles, my former teachers all have one thing in common: they have tirelessly encouraged me to develop my style further. It was Martin Sander who, with his precise approach, opened up the world of organ playing to me in the first place. My most important impulses and technical refinement I owe to Ludger Lohmann. All of my teachers have continuously urged me to search for my own voice in music; for that I am incredibly grateful to them.

Among all organists, are there any female organists who have served as a role model for you? If so, why?

No, there has not been. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to directly experience the great female organists of the 20th century, such as Marie-Claire Alain or Rolande Falcinelli…

In addition to the organ, the violin also plays an important role in your life. Not to ask the question of who plays the “second fiddle” in this unique combination - how did this parallel development of violin and organ come about?

Quite simply, because I couldn't make up my mind! Before I started playing the organ, I had already played violin in various orchestras and was always fascinated by its large body of sound and the many different facets and timbres found in an orchestra. An organ is not so different - I found the idea of my own “one-girl-orchestra" extremely exciting! So, I decided to study both.

Violin and organ: here we have a rather delicate and intimate instrument - and there, a sometimes violently effervescent machine. How do these fit together? Two souls in one chest? Or do both have more in common than one would assume at first glance?

Of course, these are two very different instruments, but I noticed early on that they can inspire each other. I was often told by other musicians that they noticed that I didn't just play the organ or the violin; for example, I had a very different understanding of harmony than most violinists, and sight-reading was also never a problem, because as an organist, you are used to many more voices and other difficulties. On the other hand, because of the violin, I have a different feeling for phrase formation and tone, which in turn helps me a lot on the organ. Also, through my pianistic and violinistic training I have become acquainted with a widely varied, wonderful and much larger repertoire, especially in the areas of symphonic and chamber music. There is so much more to discover than "only" in our organistic repertoire - if you know the music of composers like Berlioz, Bruckner, Mahler, Mozart, Schubert, Wagner, etc., you are able to interpret organ music very differently.

As a violinist, one is intimately familiar with one's instrument. Traveling concert organists, on the other hand, usually only enjoy the status of "guest artists" on the instrument they are to play. Do you succeed in "assimilating" with every instrument right away, or do you have certain preferences for a specific type of organ?

A violinist may be intimately familiar with their violin, but even a violin can be “out of tune” on some days, due to climatic changes or other factors, so that you must coax it along, so to speak. Just as the organ is a queen, the violin is a little diva. The main difference between us organists and other instrumentalists is that you have to commit to a certain program in advance; a violinist can theoretically play any program anywhere. As an organist, this is not possible; you have to consider in advance exactly which program fits which organ. The more you play on different instruments, the easier and faster you can adapt. We organists are probably the most flexible musicians that you will encounter. Being allowed to play on many different instruments is precisely what keeps our job so interesting.

When I look at your website homepage, I immediately notice the shiny red patent leather shoes on the keyboard and evoke associations with Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale, “The Red Shoes”. Certainly, the flashy shoes are not meant to be a symbol of a "forced dance" on the pedals. Nevertheless, in this very fairy tale, it is said that it is not proper to go to church wearing red shoes. Do you perform differently in a church than on the concert podium?

The association with this fairy tale has actually never occurred to me! They were simply the first organ shoes that I immediately felt comfortable in at the pedal board. I rarely see shoes that are suitable for me as an organist and are elegant and pretty at the same time. Of course, I perform differently in a church than in a concert hall, but this is simply related to the space, as well as the atmosphere and the audience. Some things are just not appropriate in a church, and I respect that. After all, I was baptized Catholic myself and educated in this way. But red shoes are definitely not one of those things for me.

In the classical music scene, many organ concerts resemble more a funeral mass than a festive Easter high mass. Can organ concerts in churches not also be entertaining, in the sense that one is touched by the beauty of the music, delighted and inwardly happy to go back to everyday life?

Of course, people should generally go home serendipitous after a concert - but that is by no means everything. I also want to challenge the audience, want them to learn something new, and want to provide something to think about after a concert. In the long run, to only play the usual repertoire would not be very challenging for me as an artist. It would not fulfill my own standard of an interesting concert program, nor would it promote music that is less familiar to an audience; both precisely my tasks as an artist!

For many people, the queen of instruments is still - due to the place of installation - a primarily ecclesiastical "organum", whose contours are not infrequently blurred behind clouds of incense (at least in Catholic churches). Additionally, the organist is usually hidden from the view of listeners. Under these circumstances, does it become more difficult to establish contact and communication with the audience, who are often seated far away from the performer?

It is not necessarily harder to establish contact with the audience, because I try to do that through the music. Naturally, I want people to come to my concert because of the music and not because I am wearing red shoes... Nevertheless, many people do not even know what the organ looks like, let alone how it works and what must happen behind the scenes to make it sound the way it does. And that is a pity! There is definitely more educational work to be done in this regard. That is why I don't think it is wrong at all if in a concert, the organist hidden from sight is broadcast via video onto a screen into the nave. I have often noticed that as soon as this is announced in advance, more people find their way into the church for the concert. Our society is in a state of upheaval, and we organists and concert organizers must keep up with it - otherwise, the preservation of this culture has no chance in modern times.

When you say that the image facilitates listening, it seems that it is not always so easy for all audience members to establish contact with the perfomer only through the music. Can this be learned like the multiplication table, or is it a natural talent?

I am not saying that the image directly facilitates listening, but it opens up new horizons, and people in the audience are more likely to hear something new and get involved if they can better comprehend the complexity of the instrument they are watching. It is certainly the case that certain people are naturally more gifted for active listening and an appreciation for music. Nevertheless, another large part of it lies within our upbringing. Listening is not promoted as much as, for example, the multiplication table. If we look at today's schooling system, I am not at all surprised that the majority of our population no longer knows what to think of classical music. Many countries are clearly ahead of Germany in this respect. Solmisation, for example, is not taught at all in this country, neither at school nor at university! Music lessons have lost their place in the curriculum, and even singing is no longer taught in elementary school anymore. How should one then be able to understand more complex organ music? Every newborn has absolute hearing. But it gets lost if it is not challenged and encouraged. Whether someone finds it easy to listen to our music has less to do with talent and more to do with education and general open-mindedness.

As a young person, how do you see the future? Do you have fears, or do you believe that traditional values, that quality, will ultimately prevail against mainstream superficiality?

When I look at the way our society is developing, I am rather skeptical. For traditional values to have any chance at all in the long term, something has to change throughout our entire education system. I am not so sure we will get our act together in time in this respect. The scary thing is, the mainstream will always prevail, no matter how bad it is. Our society is now very consumer oriented, and there's practically no value-thinking anymore. Quality has a very hard time holding its own today. But let us remain optimistic - our culture, especially music, is something worth fighting for, after all!

Miss Held, thank you for the interview!